


Innate to One’s Being

by SkywalkerCrow



Category: Smallville, Superman: The Animated Series
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Identity Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywalkerCrow/pseuds/SkywalkerCrow
Summary: Luthor thought he would never take a personal interest in a small time reporter, until he recognized one with a name he’s seen before in a paper trail of his forgotten memories. Suddenly he’s very interested.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Lex Luthor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. A Reporter Named Clark Kent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playing fast and loose with cannon. I basically only took the amnesia part and the first 2 seasons from the Smallville series, that show got absolutely batshit sometimes lol but it had cool concepts
> 
> Also Exists in a world where the justice league hasn’t been made yet

_The Planet_ was a thorn in Lex Luthor’s side. More so than other newspapers. 

Lois Lane wrote compelling articles in favor of Superman, and against himself. She was their top reporter and for a good reason. Her hard hitting questions sometimes stumped his PR team and she often got into places she rightfully and legally should not be in. 

The newspaper wasn’t just about her hard hitting articles however— it wouldn’t make money if it was— there was the gossip page and numerous fluff pieces by a short list of other writers, some occasionally selling articles to the newspaper and others that had a full time position at their office. Luther tended to ignore those. He only had so many hours in a day after all, it wouldn’t be a good management of his time to spend it on such inconsequential things.

That was how Luthor for years missed a name that would have otherwise immediately caught his attention. Until, while reading Lane’s recent article he noticed the name as a co-author in her byline. 

_Clark Kent_. He’s seen that name once before, marked down as the best man in his first wedding. Luthor had never really bothered looking for absolutely everyone ever involved in his past— but while he was right in front of him— and more importantly involved with the thorn in his side, a little digging couldn’t hurt. 

At a surface glance looking into _The Planet_ he found Kent’s articles were much less opinionated than Lane’s— his writing style more informative and questioning than anything else. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s seen his name in his own written past he wouldn’t have given the man a second glance, or even a first for that matter. His articles were rather boring compared to the scathing Lane came up with. 

It was easy to see how she overshadowed him. 

There were many more articles the two had co-written together, but most were primarily made by Kent and not as popular as Lane’s solo journalism. 

A closer look at the man told him he was from Smallville. The same place he ran his first company. 

Luthor would have told himself he had just been someone from the town paid to be his best man for the look of it— but he had been in _high school_ at the time. And that wasn’t really a normal _look_ for a business man getting married. It certainly wasn’t a choice he would ever make now if he were ever to be married— that would certainly bring him a lot of bad press and false rumors. 

It was at this point not time that he should have stopped— written off the whole best man thing as a past mistake from before he was the man he was today— certainly he must have been a bit different before the memory loss. But he didn’t stop. Something drove him to keep looking, he wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

While Lex Luthor despised _The Planet_ and all its employees _,_ he hated the unknown more. 

Upon even further and less legal digging, he found Kent had a spotty medical record at best— although that wasn’t uncommon for people from small rural towns and someone who more than likely had a tight budget. He had been admitted to the hospital a few times in high school, but not once after he moved to Metropolis. 

He had also been adopted as a young child because the Kent’s couldn’t have a child of their own. 

It was at that point he felt himself hit a dead end. There was nothing more about him he could find. He was just some guy from a small town who years ago somehow made a place temporarily at Luthor’s side. 

Luthor didn’t know a lot about himself. 

Many years had been lost with his sudden amnesia— but some things were innate to his being he realized. That despite the fact that he had no memory there were some things that could not be taken away. 

He was a good businessman, he was amazing at public speaking and he was highly ambitious.

Originally he had a small business in a town called _Smallville_ in the middle of Kansas given to him by his father, but now he’s moved onto bigger places with more profitable business— mainly Metropolis. His past love life wasn’t so great. Multiple wives and all divorced— a few attempted murders. No close friends from what he could tell, or really any friends at all, only business partners and paid guards he trusted. 

What happened then did not define what happened now, but now that Kent was in front of him it was hard not to want to look deeper at something that didn’t make a lot of sense. There were several things innate to his personality and being, and he didn’t quite understand how the small time reporter ever fit into it. 

For one, Kent had never even attempted to contact him to try and get an interview— seeing as the man might have once known him, Luthor found it to be highly suspicious he never tried to use that to his advantage. Especially seeing as he worked for _The_ _Planet_ of all places. 

Perhaps it was time for a meeting with that thorn in his side— but not directly of course. 

Lex Luthor simply didn’t have parties open to the press, but there was a first time for everything. 

He wouldn’t have to give them an invite— the _Daily Planet_ would come running to possibly get a quote from him— a couples only event would increase the chances of Kent being there without a direct invite, because he knew it was more than likely Lane would go alone if at all possible. Seeing how often the two appeared as co-authors, he would likely be her first choice to go with. Certainly, based on his writing style he would be unlikely to try and take the spotlight from her. 

He liked his odds with this gamble. Not that he had anything to lose other than a missed opportunity. 

It also was high time he gave back to this city again. Enlarge his philanthropist side and hopefully win back some people of Metropolis. It was starting to depend on that alien menace too much for its own good. 

* * *

Lex Luthor was never truly nervous about anything— that simply wasn’t the type of person he was. 

But there was this type of _anticipation_ he was feeling at meeting someone that didn’t quite fit into the picture of his life story all that well. It’s been a long time since he didn’t quite know what would happen next. When he made a plan and a part of it was as unstructured as _whatever happens happens._

The two reporters would have their list of questions to ask, but Luthor would have his own. 

With some careful words and a few pushes he could likely get what he wanted from him in one meeting. Luthor didn’t like to underestimate people but he had a good idea that Kent wasn’t used to playing with the big dogs. Who he _would_ need to be careful of was Lois Lane— no doubt she would wedge her way into the conversation if she saw her co-worker speaking to him. 

Already he’s seen his fair share of reporters at the event, their prominently displayed press badges around their neck distinguished them from the rest of the partygoers. 

It wasn’t a useless gathering— it would genuinely help Metropolis as a whole, the main part being supporting the city’s fire control divisions. It was bad to rely on an alien caped crusader for that, the city needed resources to take care of itself without the help of outsiders, in his opinion. Anyone with a brain could see that. But it was a gathering made specifically for Luthor to come into contact with one man and not make it suspicious. 

He took a look out the wall length windows at that thought— almost expecting to see Superman pass by, but the alien was a creature of the day and not night. The only thing outside the windows was the glow of the city’s lights against the dark sky. 

Because it was an almost purely charitable event a few elites from neighboring cities came over, but none of their high fashion or famous names was what kept catching his eye. In the sea of people that was his charity gala he looked most often at one person in particular.

Despite not aiming to look for him this early in the night his eyes kept being drawn to Kent. 

There was this _something_ about how he wore his mundane clothes. They weren’t extravagant or expensive, quite the opposite, but still he found himself looking at him more so then he often looked at others. He wore an ill fitting suit jacket in a brown pastel he would call unprofessional on men, and glasses in a style only liked by underground fashion groups. Likely completely unintended he stood out amongst the more bold colored dresses and black suits around him tailored specifically to catch attention. 

Ironically it’s his unassuming look that made him stand out in the crowd of the bold and vibrant. 

Miss Lane apparently took his frequent glances at her partner as directed towards her and began making her way towards him. 

Luthor had planned on doing this towards the later hours, but he could make do with now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mercy disguised in a short gold dress glare at her.

Lane was truly a professional in her job, as much as she annoyed him, not approaching him too early in the night and only making her move when she thought he was showing some interest in her. Perhaps if Luthor wasn’t half as smart as he was his eyes _would_ have been distracted by her bold deep wine gown and not her partner. 

Pastel of the innocence and red of blood, they clashed horribly— it fit them.

Clark Kent was the objective of Lois Lane’s subjective. Whenever Kent had a co-author it was almost always her— they were complete opposites, from backgrounds to personality to writing style to fashion, opposites often balance one another out. From what he could tell they worked well together— irritatingly so in some cases. 

While not often her co-author, Luthor in his further digging found out they were more so than not assigned to travel to the same places, interview people together as a pair and wrote articles on the same subject that came out at the same time.

The only reason it seems he’s somehow managed to avoid ever meeting Kent when he had met Lane several times before was because he wasn’t as daring as her to trespass on his property or yell questions at him during a press conference. 

It may have been because she was the famous damsel in distress of Metropolis and a six foot farm boy didn’t look as good of a hostage as she did that made it so Kent was essentially much less well known despite being practically glued to her side. She also managed to get exclusives with Superman, something Kent never seemed to manage. Maybe that last part was simply because he never pushed for one. 

Kent certainly didn’t appear to be the type to approach anyone, but Lane _was—_ and right now that worked exactly in his favor. Because trailing a bit behind the approaching Lois Lane was Clark Kent himself. Luthor wouldn’t have to make the move towards Kent, he played into his hands as he anticipated. 

Perhaps it was a bit overly cautious for someone so small time, but he never did anything in half measures. 

“Lois Lane, _Daily Planet.”_ She greeted as if they had never met before and held out a hand— Luthor met it with a strong grip. 

Her nails bit into the back of his hand. He didn’t expect anything less. 

“Miss Lane, I've read your work many times. So glad you could attend this evening.” He spared a glance at her partner before letting go. He wasn’t familiar. That was the first thing that came to mind apart from the man’s visible anxiety. “Is this your plus one?” 

“Clark Kent, _Daily Planet.”_ The reporter said— then cringed slightly, likely at the repetition, and _didn’t_ offer his hand. 

Luthor didn’t offer his in return. Watching him push his glasses further onto his face and look anywhere but his eyes he decided it must be because of nerves and not any purposeful disrespect. 

A part of him had expected Kent to be familiar, but he simply wasn’t. For some reason he felt disappointed by that. 

“It’s not like you to host a party open to the public.” Lane said, likely the beginnings of leading the conversation where she wanted it. 

“I thought I’d try something different for once.” Luthor responded, but he could afford sharper verbal jabs, he knew ways to lead people off track. Then Luthor lied. “Is this man your boyfriend? He does look quite familiar to me.” 

They both spoke at once. 

“I, well maybe not—“

“ _No—_ no, he’s just my coworker.” 

“My mistake.” He said and smiled. “I must have just seen him at press conferences.”

To Lane she would see it as a misdirection leading her away from a story, but that wasn’t entirely what it was. 

It had been an open statement, an opening he gave Kent room to say _I did know you long ago—_ that they were from the same town— or even that he had attended his wedding. He couldn’t however classify Kent as a liar if he said nothing at all. It would mean taking a step above Lane, and possibly leading their paper away from a usable quote. It also would be quite unbelievable to say they somehow knew each other when he never said anything after all these literal years. 

But that’s exactly why he was doing this all in the first place— _Because_ it was so unbelievable he could have ever known someone like Kent personally. And why he never said anything about it before despite that being a logical move to make. 

“Well Kent _is_ from Smallville. I believe your first business started there.” It was _Lane_ who ended up speaking for him, showing off her knowledge of himself she no doubt dug deep into. “And speaking of your business—“ 

“—Ah, I am missing a bit of memory from then you must know.” He interrupted Lane before she could get anywhere. “Tell me, did you ever see me around town, Mister Kent?” 

He looked to Lane before responding. 

“I may have. It’s not— it’s not really that important. Everyone knew _about_ you, you were… the famous family in our not very well known town.” 

Which was the exact opposite way people usually spoke when he mentioned knowing them before his amnesia— when he tested them to see what kind of person they were. Usually people tried to take advantage of him. He was downplaying his interactions with him. For what reasons Luthor at the moment didn’t quite know. 

But one day he would. 

Lane was clearly not too happy about being spoken over from the clench of her jaw, but she seemed at least moderately interested in wherever he was going— that or she wasn’t stupid enough to talk over a conversation he was having in public. Luthor could almost see her hold herself back from saying anything. 

“No need to be so professional, this is a casual party— I’m sure we’ve met at least once.”

Kent moved his head slightly from side to side, deciding on something. To lie or to tell the truth Luthor presumed. 

“Well… I delivered fresh food from my parents farm to your place a few times.” 

Lane looked surprised to hear that. 

Luthor looked in the crowd and made a slight upturn gesture towards one group he saw taking looks at him, acknowledging them. The conversation had gone on long enough, he wouldn’t wasn’t Kent to be suspicious of his intentions in any manner. 

He had enough information. For now. There was an opening, and he was nothing but patient. 

“Well I can’t remember it, but I’m sure it was good. Our country does need to support local produce more after all.” 

“Luthor, about—“ 

“—Mr. Luthor!” One of the men from the group he nodded to inserted himself into the three. “We haven’t seen you in so long, come over and talk.” 

“Excuse me, I look forward to reading your article on this event, Miss Lane.” 

Luthor didn’t have to look behind him to know Lane was fuming. Despite talking with a new group several feet away he did keep half an ear out to listen in on whatever Lane was saying. 

“I can’t believe you Kent— you really need to grow some backbone— or take a debate class, he was using you to lead us off track.” 

“Sorry Lois.” Kent replied. “I don’t really think this kind of place is the best for getting any of the quotes you wanted.” 

“Not for lack of trying— and not for lack of imagination either, you wouldn’t believe where I’m able to get the scoop sometimes.” 

Luthor would believe it. 

Now, Luthor just had to enjoy the party, support the local fire department, then he could get back to thinking. 

* * *

Kent could be lying about how they met, although it was an entirely likely scenario. 

He could see it happening. The local farmer’s sending their son to deliver their goods around town and one of those places happening to be the Luthor’s mansion. Maybe Kent started out as a delivery boy and one day Luthor talked to him and made friends. He doubted he would have mingled around town, so having met at the mansion was the most realistic scenario. 

But then there was Kent’s hesitation. 

The hesitation Kent had with mentioning he had met Luthor before could be a fault of his less than outgoing personality and not a lie. 

It felt _wrong_ however, that entire made up scenario. 

And then there was the question as to _why_ Kent lied about how they met. 

Clark Kent had been the best man at his first wedding, and he didn’t even mention it. He also just didn’t have the type of headstrong personality Luthor most often found himself enjoying no matter how often that got him into trouble. Based on how most of his ex-wives had tried to assassinate him, that hadn’t really changed with the memory loss. 

Luthor couldn’t quite see himself asking a high schooler to be his best man with just that. It was a _weird_ thing to do— and he couldn’t get that notion out of his head. Maybe before he lost his memory he had been less careful about appearances— but _then_ there was the personality problem if he had been a close friend and wasn’t just hired for the event. 

Thinking about it made his head hurt— how he thought himself in circles and still got no logical answer. 

Then the all too familiar booming sound from outside his office window dragged his attention away from his own thoughts at a moment’s notice. 

Luthor had to remember that not everything needed such a delicate touch as others. He was dealing with a reporter who’s biggest article was about British museums hosting art they stole a hundred and some years ago. Kent didn’t do bylines about hidden shady business practices and his opinion pieces of Superman were so watered down he might as well just be detailing events and nothing else. He wasn’t a thorn in his side like Lois Lane, that needed careful planning or else risk a devastating exposure, nor was he the careless reckless Superman that broke everything at the first sign of noncompliance, nor was he a powerful dangerous businessman looking to one up him at every opportunity— he was a piece of his past Luthor simply didn’t understand yet. 

Perhaps it would be best simply to ask outright. 

If anything else, how he chose to answer or not answer would give him more information about the person he was. And maybe that could lead Luthor to a conclusion that made sense. 

* * *

Clark was called to Perry’s office one late afternoon. 

While he wouldn’t call himself paranoid, that always made him a bit nervous— making him think he had done something wrong or his last article wasn’t good enough or maybe even he was getting kicked from the paper. 

“Good news Kent.” Perry began, and with that the tension left him in an instant. “After who knows how long we finally got a private interview with Lex Corp.” 

Then the dread was back. 

He had met with Lex just last night. The first meeting between Clark and him, and immediately he was going to see him again. That did not bode well. 

Clark had thought he lied well enough. He had thought Lex would never bother to even look at someone like him especially next to Lois. 

But Lex had said he looked _familiar._

He had no idea if it was because of their meetings as Superman or because a part of him remembered their shared past in Smallville. And he wasn’t sure which one would be worse. 

“And— and why was I called into your office?” Clark asked, hoping this wasn’t going to be what he thought it was. 

Perry raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re smarter than that Kent. You're being sent out to do it.” 

“Wouldn’t Lois be a better choice, not to say my writing is bad but…” 

“Well I was going to send her if we ever got a chance but,” he put his hands in the air for a second before putting them back on his desk, “I was specifically asked to send you.” 

“Oh.” Was all he responded with. “Will I be interviewing one of the board of directors or—“ 

“Luthor himself.” 

Clark pushed his glasses up. 

“That’s… That really is quite the interview. How long do I have to prepare?” 

Lex wanting to meet with him _specifically_ couldn’t possibly mean anything good. But it had been so long, surely if he remembered it would have been sooner than this. If he did want to meet him for personal reasons, logically he would show up at his apartment or call him instead. 

“One day. Ask Lois for help if you need it but you have to go alone for the actual interview. I assume you were asked because you’re a bit less opinionated than her. No offense.” 

Clark genuinely hoped that too. 

“None taken.” 

* * *

“Seriously Kent— an official _personal interview_ with Luthor? Just how do you manage to do these sorts of things.” 

“If it’s any consolation to you Perry said you were his first choice. He thinks they asked for me because I’m quote _less opinionated_ end quote.” Clark paused. “He also said I should ask you for help.” 

Perry hadn’t exactly said that, but Clark definitely needed the help. 

“Fine— it would be a shame for the first ever private interview with Lex Luthor to end up being a fluff piece.”

* * *

Somehow Clark Kent managed to look surprised to see Lex Luthor himself despite knowing he was in his building specifically to interview him. 

Obviously there was a reason Lois Lane was sent for important individual interviews instead of him, they were only becoming more and more apparent as he saw the man more often. 

“Clark Kent, _Daily Planet.”_ The reporter said— introducing himself as if they had never met before— and again, didn’t offer his hand. 

Luthor observed every minute detail the reporter made in the short period of time— how he chose to immediately take the seat in front of him without being told to or being verbally acknowledged, and how he pushed his glasses further up his face as he got settled— a nervous tick Luthor assumed. 

“I do hope you found your way easily enough.” Luthor opened with a general friendly statement. 

“I did.” Kent said and lightly nodded. 

“It would be my preference if you did not record our conversation, but feel free to take as much time to write down anything I say that you think may be of importance.” 

He looked up for a moment then back down to his notepad. 

“Okay. I like handwriting down quotes anyways.” 

“I don’t often do private interviews.” Luthor told him next, then he opened with an easy statement that could lead to many different places. He was interested to see where Kent would take it. “As you know the _Daily Planet_ and I don't always see eye to eye on many things.”

“And, and you wish to… change that Lex?” 

Luthor wasn’t a man that was surprised often but the small time reporter made his jaw go slack for a moment. People usually didn’t call him _Lex_ unless he specifically told them too. Kent said his name like he said it a thousand and one times before and yet he stumbled his words over the softball he threw. It was as if it didn’t even register in his brain that it would be a weird thing to call him by his first name. 

“I have a few questions _I’d_ like to ask you.” Luthor simply stated. 

“Well I— I am the one doing the interview.” He responded and tapped his pencil lightly on his notepad. 

Now would be the time where Luthor would say _please, call me Lex_ to try to get the individual opposite of him to relax and get less than formal with him so he could slip information from them— but Kent had beaten him to that part already. 

Luthor would say it was quite rude of the man— _unless_ in the distant past he had told Kent to call him Lex and didn’t quite realize it would be improper to call him by his first name simply because he was used to it. 

Not just his delivery boy indeed. 

“You’ll get to ask your questions. There are just a few things I’d like to ask myself. I didn’t ask for you in particular by accident.” 

Kent took a second to respond to that. 

“Alright.” 

A simple acceptance of what Luthor said, nothing more. 

“Did I know you Kent? Personally, more than just you being a delivery boy.” He looked nervous. Luthor could almost see him think. “It isn’t a secret by any means that I lost a significant part of my memory. There were a few people that jumped on the opportunity to try and get close to me because of it.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry Lex— everything seems to have worked out well though, so...” 

There was _something_ about how he said his name. Something dark and light about it he couldn’t quite name yet. 

“You were my best man at my first wedding.” Luthor stated. 

“I was.” Kent replied, and offered nothing else. 

The reporter may at first glance look like a spineless man in the shadow of Lois Lane, but he appeared to be one who guarded himself— that or he was too dumb to relize what Luthor was getting at. 

A part of him highly doubted Kent was an idiot however. 

“You’re not very forthright with information. Do you see my problem here Mister Kent?”

“What do you want me to say?” Suddenly a strike of boldness from him, he said it with a partial rudeness to his tone. 

“I would like to know how I got to know you so well to end up being my best man, or if I paid you— which I doubt. But seeing as I don’t recall anything from that time I can’t rule anything out.” 

There were a lot of things conserving Kent he couldn’t make a solid judgement on. There wasn’t enough information. He was too small time for anyone to pay attention to him. 

“You… there are— _were_ a lot of things that really didn’t work out.” 

“Just tell me if we were friends or not.” 

As the conversation went on he was getting the clear image Kent wasn’t an idiot. He was guarding information on their shared past, not like a rabid dog, but like a bird hiding in its nest. 

“I thought you weren’t curious about your past, you said at that press conference—” 

“Is that why you never approached me?” He questioned— and for a moment cursed his first ever speech. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Kent said quickly. “I think we used to be friends. Can we do that interview now?” 

“ _How_ did we become friends.” 

“It didn’t really work out Lex, I’m sorry.” 

“Mister Kent.” Lex stated and leaned forward in his seat. “You really are _testing_ my patience now.” 

He didn’t reply right away. Clearly he was nervous, but until that last sentence he had not looked _afraid_. At the very least he knew Luthor’s patience was not infinite. Whether or not he would continue to dodge him despite being pressured or give him an answer the conversation was about to change very quickly. 

He predicted Kent wouldn’t let it get too far— to the point where actual threats were made— he would now either lie or tell him the truth. 

But what he said next Luthor could not have predicted. 

“You hit me with your car.” He said quickly, meeting his eyes for once, and looked somehow managed to look _guilty_ about it. “I lied about you hitting me. You— you blacked out so— _and_ I wasn’t hurt, and I didn’t know who you were at the time so— I just didn’t want you to feel bad— so I lied. Sorry about lying, to you then. Even if you don’t remember it. And now, I didn’t think you’d believe me.” 

It was so sincere and gloriously human and awkward— apologizing for being _hit by a car._ Not often was Lex Luthor completely blindsided in any situation. 

“I…” 

Kent didn’t exactly stop there however. He wasn’t entirely sure if the reporter realized he just spoke over him. 

“I wasn’t hurt— not that bad— I didn’t even have to go to the hospital.” He said and cringed, looking like he was yelling at himself inside his head. “I mean, you ended up swerving off into the water so, I think that broke the fall.” He said all at once then gripped the edges of his notepad. Once he started talking it appeared that he couldn’t quite prevent himself from saying more. “You gave me a truck then I… refused it. After— to apologize to me.” 

That last part definitely sounded like him. The giving of an expensive item to quiet a potential scandal part. There really wasn’t any way to spin hitting a teenager with your car. It was possible he had also threatened Kent and his family to keep that a secret and that could have been why he was hesitant to tell him about the past. 

Although he was surprised to hear one of his gifts was refused, Kent seemed like the type of person to do that. He could also see that backfiring drastically. 

If now, he accidentally hit someone with his car— even if they weren’t seriously hurt— and they turned down his monetary compensation he would grow quite suspicious of what they were planning and when they were going to blackmail him. 

“My apologies for that, I suppose.” 

It wasn’t until after all this Luthor considered the possibility Kent was lying. 

For some reason he simply believed these words at face value. They felt true. But of course that didn’t mean they were. 

Either way, it was interesting. 

Kent either had the guts to lie to his face to hide what _really_ happened, or he was telling the truth. He was leaning towards the truth however— that last detail about attempting to bribe him was something he often did, and it _wasn’t_ known to the public. 

Luthor was starting to see now why he may have kept Kent around despite having a completely opposite type of personality than he usually enjoyed. 

“I realize you called me here just to ask me that but, can we do the interview— Lois gave me some questions to ask you.” 

Perhaps he wasn’t quite as dumb as he looked if he figured that out— but he couldn’t exactly have made it as a journalist if he didn’t have critical thinking somewhere in his brain. 

“Of course, ask your questions. You have thirty minutes.” 

It _was_ a bit funny to hear her hard hitting questions come from Kent’s mouth, he wasn’t quite able to keep the conversation going where it should be, and often didn’t pursue a point after Luthor offered one explanation even if it didn’t fully make sense. Instead he just moved onto whatever Lane had written for him next. 

Luthor got the feeling he just wanted to leave more than anything else. He felt a bit insulted by that. 

The time ended up being less than thirty minutes, and after Kent ran out of his coworker’s pre-written questions he offered a goodbye. 

Lex Luthor still couldn’t quite see why he became close enough friends with a person like this to make him his best man despite the whole age thing— although he did see how the car accident would put him on his radar as something less than typical, and in a town where nothing really happened he could also see how he’d become interested in him. 

But he still felt as if something was missing. 

That still Clark Kent wasn’t forthcoming with important details— and that _was_ interesting. It wasn’t often Luthor was presented with a mystery even after a little digging he didn’t have an exact answer to. Despite the fact that Kent did seem like a pushover it took quite a few pushes to get him to say he had personally known him— and that was only after Luthor told him he _knew_ he had been at one of his weddings. 

The next step in this would naturally be confirming if the car crash happened or not— to see if Kent was a very good liar or not. 

There was a chance he was looking too deep into this, of course. 

“Mercy.” He called into his desk’s intercom. “I’d like the police records for any accident that occurred in Smallville, Kansas 2001 to 2008.”

But he wouldn’t be Lex Luthor if he did anything less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was just supposed to be like a short plot bunny fill thing but I ended up writing like. So much…


	2. An Alien Named Kal-El

Clark Kent left Luthor’s main office feeling more anxious than he’s ever felt before. 

He looked up behind him at the tower of glass and wondered if Lex was looking out his wall length windows. 

The ones he as Superman had flown through many times before to confront him. 

When he first entered he was sure after those first few steps he’d begin to feel the throbbing pang of Kryptonite deep in his chest— that Lex finally figured it out and he was walking into a trap, but he didn’t. 

It had been odd being on the other side of the office, the other side of the desk. Lex and Superman always argued on the opposite side with nothing between them. Often getting in one another’s face on their feet. Superman had never sat on the other side of that desk— he’d never been just another person in the building, he’s never walked in on two feet through the front door and had to talk to his secretary to get a temporary pass that would let him use the elevator. Despite having technically been in Lex’s building many times before, he’s never seen more than his office on the top floor. 

It had been so different from the office building he was used to— it almost didn’t feel like it was in Metropolis at all.

The juxtaposition between the two buildings was sharp. 

The building the _Daily Planet_ occupied was an older one that shared offices with a few other businesses, but the most famous was its newspaper and the building itself was well known for its brass spinning globe that represented the _Planet_. It certainly wasn’t the tallest, but it’s comparatively smaller windows and cement siding made it stand out from the glass of the surrounding more modern buildings. The people inside of it dressed professionally but had a lot of personality and were friendly. 

Meanwhile Lexcorp’s main building had that new towering reflective glass design. It’s occupants were clinically cold and sharp looking. Even when people were nice to him he felt like they were judging him. He didn’t want to call it lifeless— but to him that’s how it felt. 

Clark was glad to be back inside the Planet’s offices. Even if now he had to start dealing with one of his worst fears. Lex Luthor _might_ not know he was Superman, but he probably knew he was hiding something. It was almost like their first years in Smallville together— except now the stakes were far higher. 

Taking a seat at his desk, Clark carefully put his notepad on the desk and sighed. But he knew he wouldn’t get peace for long. 

“How’d the interview go Smallville?” Lois asked. 

“Uh— good.” He lied.

Lex was showing interest in him, and Clark knew that _couldn’t_ mean anything good. Even with the most innocent intentions. But obviously he couldn’t tell Lois that. 

He could have figured out he was Superman and was just biding his time and judging his reactions in civilian form— maybe he was planning on threatening Kent to try and sabotage the _Planet_ because of their open support of Superman, or something along those lines.

Based on what he said in their interview however, Clark was more _rationally_ thinking Luthor could have gotten a sudden interest in his own past despite publicly saying he wouldn’t look deep into it years ago. Why he was doing that now however— if that was the case— he didn’t know. 

“Well, you don’t sound too good.”

“Well honestly I’m not sure I did that good of a job.” He truthfully answered.

Clark has spent so much time worrying about why Lex had asked him questions about the past then to bother to try and dig some kind of answer out of him concerning his never ending shady business deals and his multiple attempts to kill their resident superhero. _Rumored_ attempts. Clark mentally corrected. Even though he knew they weren’t just rumors. 

Lois crossed her arms.

“Probably why he asked for you and not me.” 

“I wrote down what he said.” Clark stated and pushed his notepad across the desk. “I’d assume you want to read through it?”

She looked to him then to the notepad before taking it into her own hands. 

“Yes.”

Clark tried not to watch her too much as she flipped through the quotes he had taken and frowned.

“I think I’ll let you write this one all on your own. There’s not much material here.” She concluded, writing herself out of a co-author byline. “But a peer review never hurt.”

“That bad?”

“You’ll get your Pulitzer one day, but maybe not with this one. Just try not to disappoint Perry too much with it.” She said then sat back at her own desk. 

It wasn’t entirely Mr. White Clark was worried about. Lex would no doubt be reading whatever he wrote and making some judgment on it. But he knew from experience stalling on an article never made the end result any better. 

He’d manage something half-way decent, he was sure. 

* * *

The first draft he wrote came to him quickly— but he very soon realized he could never allow this to be seen by anyone else, never mind be publicly printed. The writing wasn’t necessarily _bad_. It was just too opinionated, it included parts about the personal questions Lex had asked, it had too many parts of his own life— it was more like Lois’s articles than his own but even her articles were more professional then what he had written.

What he wrote was more of a journal entry. 

He didn’t delete it however. Rarely did he ever delete anything he wrote. 

Clark simply opened a new document and tried again, this time with more intent than flow of mind, only focusing on the parts of the meeting that pertained to the business. In three hours he was done with the second draft, and asked Lois for her opinion on the outline. 

_Seriously Kent?_ She texted him. _You get the first ever private interview with the richest man in Metropolis, the shadiest man too, and this is what you wrote?_

He texted her back:

_Well I didn’t want to be mean to him._

She responded: 

_Where’s the first impression? The drama, the exclusivity, not sound like Cat but give it some personality here._

The first draft had a first impression, or well a thousandth impression in his case. The whole point of his second draft was specifically to be as objective as possible.

It really would have been better if Lois had gone so she could write an amazing piece, filled with quips and life, but the only reason there was an interview to begin with was that Lex had wanted to talk to Clark specifically. 

Clark texted her:

_He’s just a guy Lois, and I’d like to keep it as professional as possible._

_Why don’t you put that in the article then? Also you spelled “Architect” wrong somehow despite having spell check._

_Thanks, I’ll have something with a bit of more Cat Grant to it for the morning edition._

Then he went on to add a bit more and reorganize a few things. He includes details about Luthor from the gossip columns and added in details about being the first private interview. It still definitely wasn’t what Lois had ment, but it was serviceable without being boring. 

Certainly it had more _drama_ and _personality_ than his articles on Superman— on himself. Those were always weird to have to write. 

* * *

It took three days to gather the information Luthor had asked for. He presumed that was only because Smallville, Kansas didn't exactly have top of the line documentation. 

Kent’s article came out before then. He was surprised to see Lane didn’t have her name as the co-author— but that was about all he was surprised with. 

The article didn’t say anything about what happened before Kent was able to ask his questions. It made the front page only because one on one interviews with Lex Luthor were unheard of. Written decently, but ultimately not that interesting— neutral more than anything else, like most of Kent’s writing. Luthor couldn’t say if his writing style was because of his professionalism or his spinelessness. 

It disappointed him.

When the information did finally arrive, a part of him wasn’t all that surprised to see Kent had been telling the truth. 

There was a record of a car crash with Kent as a witness— a bystander, and not a victim of his driving. No pictures of the wrecked car were in the file, and there wasn’t a name marked down for the person who had crashed. 

But that’s not what ended up interesting him. 

Because Luthor had asked from _all_ the files not knowing what year it had taken place in. He hadn’t expected much from a town like that— but in that aspect he was wrong. 

The town had more dead high schoolers then all schools in Gotham combined. Because it didn’t happen in the age of the internet— there weren’t any trail of diary blog posts that could clue Luthor into what had happened in the town on a personal level— there were only the official reports of mysterious deaths and obituaries which left a trace that anything horrid had ever plagued the town. Newspapers had been only literal paper then— no online presence, at least none who’s websites were still around today. And no one really bothered to meticulously preserve the newspaper of a small town in the middle of nowhere. 

The backwater town he looked down on when he first lost his memories had a lot of hidden poison apparently. 

He had originally thought it was uninteresting, small, all too old for someone modern and innovative such as himself— but his past self had stayed there for _years_ for a reason— even if the reason he went there in the first place was unknown.

Perhaps there was also something else innate to his being. 

Luthor didn’t deal with things that weren’t interesting. 

And this was interesting.

* * *

“Clark Kent, _Daily Planet.”_ He said into the receiver of his work’s desk phone as he typed out a fluff piece.

“Kent, _so nice_ of you to pick up for me.” 

He stopped typing. 

“... Lex?”

He might have stopped breathing too. 

“Why am I not surprised you recognize my voice?” 

“I don’t know…” He responded, although he knew the answer— it was because they did speak with one another often, but on less than friendly terms. “Why did you call me?”

“First off, I believe I owe you an apology. I was a bit _overzealous_ in trying to get you to tell me about our past.”

Clark didn’t think he was overzealous by his standards. Although that might be because he often saw the worst Lex was capable of. An orchestrated interview was the least over the top he’s seen Lex be.

He looked over at Lois’s desk— she was deep into typing something about an incident in Central City, likely not listening in.

“Apology accepted.”

“Maybe it was rude of me to try and get information from you by letting _The_ _Planet_ set up an interview. How about I be completely truthful, and you’ll be truthful in return?”

This definitely wasn’t leading anywhere good. 

“What is this about?” He asked, sounding more stern than he usually did in his civilian persona. 

“I wanted to confirm what you told me.” Lex said. Likely he meant he went digging into old police records. “My condolences to anyone you know that lost their life in your school.”

That was exactly what he _didn’t_ want to hear. Lex was looking into meteor mutants, again. 

“I thought you didn’t remember.” 

“I don’t, it was in the records one of my staff picked up— I didn’t know the date of the crash after all, so I had someone make a copy of everything.” That _probably_ wasn’t legal, Clark thought— but the legality of it was the least of his concern. “I’d prefer to have this conversation in person.” 

“I’m… working right now.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to take you away from your day job. How does dinner sound?”

“Um.” He stated and it _wasn’t_ a part of the whole bumbling reporter act. “Maybe… not like that.”

“Not in public of course, a dinner between old friends— not to be rude to your fellow investigators but perhaps it would be best to avoid flashing cameras. I realize you write the news, but I doubt you’d want to become it.”

He had forgotten about that aspect. It appeared that Lex had thought all of this completely through. Most likely he had everything set up before he even called. Clark still _really_ didn’t want to do this. 

“We kinda fell out.” He told him again. 

“Then you’ll have plenty to tell me about.”

Lois had stopped typing at her computer, and was leaning back against her chair. She was _nosey—_ or perhaps overly curious to be kinder— but he supposed that’s why she was such a good reporter. 

If he agreed, no matter the circumstances he wouldn’t be able to bail mid plans and fly off to save the day. But he was a bit afraid of what Lex would try next if he said no— if he was kidnapped he wouldn’t be able to save himself. Those things would almost guarantee Lex learning about his double life.

“How about six?” Clark suggested: 

It would probably be in his best interests if he played along, for now. 

“Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“At my main office. Charity will let you up.”

“I’ll see you then.” He said, then when the line didn’t go dead— and Lex didn’t offer some sort of goodbye after a few moments he hung up.

_Awkward._

He looked at his monitor and typed one word before Lois said something to him.

“Did our resident farm boy finally get a date?”

“No. Just… meeting an old friend. He’s also from Smallville, sort of.”

“Gee— and here I thought you finally were getting around the city.”

“I get around the city just fine.”

* * *

It definitely wasn’t a good sign when after making his way to the visitor’s desk, Charity gave Clark a permanent pass with his name on it to use the elevator instead of a visitors one. 

And it _absolutely_ wasn’t a good sign when he got to the top floor and realized Lex had the lead shielding up. 

Clark was walking his way into _something_. He just didn’t know what it was yet. 

The only shred of hope he had was that Lex probably would have tried to kill him by now if he knew he was Superman. 

This was not going to be anything like those shared meals they had together on the upper floor of his barn. 

* * *

Clark Kent seemed to exclusively wear what Luthor would describe as _business casual._

He held the look of a man who was actively doing something and not just looking a formal part, a messenger bag slung across his body told the story of a guy who needed to carry a lot with him, the open jacket suggested some type of movement was common. And he _never_ wore black or dark grey— not even dark pants. Not at his charity gala and not at a private dinner with the richest man in the city. 

For any kind of dinner affair Luthor would be highly offended if a business partner or a date came to him looking like that, even in private. 

However, it didn’t really bother him when Kent did it— despite the fact that it meant he most certainly came wearing whatever he had been at work. 

And thinking of his work— Luthor had brought up the lead shielding in case a certain man in blue was trying to peak in. He didn’t need any broken windows nor did he want to see if Superman’s protective streak extended to all reporters in _The_ _Planet_ and wasn’t exclusive to Lane in particular. He also didn’t want the alien to see him slowly squirming his way into his affairs. 

Since Kent knew Lane, and Lane knew Superman, perhaps he had a little chance to pull one under the nose of the Man of Steel if he played his pieces just right. 

But that all depended on gaining the trust of Kent. 

At the very least the reporter had inadvertently told him bribery wasn’t an option when he told him the story of how they met. 

“Thank you for joining me for dinner Kent. Please, take a seat.”

Luthor motioned to the small table in front of him. Often he used it when speaking with other business men in private and on one occasion a senator. 

“It’s no problem— I just didn’t expect such short notice.” He said and took his seat, looking rather uncomfortable. 

If it was because of the setting or because of the company Luthor couldn’t tell. 

“It’s rare for me to get such free time. Often I do not plan for it. Unfortunately that means our friendly meetings will often be on short notice.” They could of course make time if he wanted too. But then people would begin to wonder why they were rescheduled or what Luthor was doing in his penthouse that no one could see that made him change his schedule. There were his off hours of course— but he had already dedicated a portion of them to finding ways to dismantle Superman. “I’m having my personal chef make a favorite of mine— you don’t happen to be allergic or intolerant to anything do you?”

“No, I’m not.” Kent took a long look at the led shield. Then he noted. “The windows are… a wall.”

“A precaution against Superman. You see he has this bad habit with Miss Lane, I’d hate for him to see another reporter from _The Planet_ by my side and come barging in on us thinking he was saving the day when he was ruining dinner.”

“Oh.” Kent scratched the side of his neck. “Does that happen often? Him… coming here.”

“Is this the reporter or the friend asking?”

“I’m asking. As me.”

“He’s come into my office before uninvited.” While they were on the topic of Superman, it would be good to judge his opinion on the alien without outright asking. At least for his first try he’d attempt to do it subtly. “Have you ever met the Man of Steel before?”

“Uh… a few times I’ve seen him. But Lois always gets the exclusive with him.” 

“Jealous?” He asked in a playful tone.

Of Lois getting to speak with Superman often or of Superman getting to speak with Lois he didn’t know. Best case scenario for him would be for Kent to respond as if he asked the second.

“Oh no— I get to speak to Lois all day, I mean we work together after all.” 

_Good_ . Luthor thought. Perhaps even after he figured out the mystery of that town, Kent had the potential to help in _other areas._

“Must be hard competing with him.” 

“I really didn’t think we’d be talking about my love life when you asked me to come over.”

“Are you uncomfortable with the question?”

“No, no— just didn’t expect it that’s all— I thought it would be more… businessy.”

So Kent was smart enough to figure out he wanted something from him. 

“I can skip the pleasantries if you’d like.”

Kent thought for a moment, looking off to the side. 

“I would.” 

“A lot of people at your high school died under mysterious circumstances.” Luthor stated, and let Kent absorb that for a second. “Did we ever find out why?” 

He responded almost immediately. 

“Yeah. We did.” 

“I assume you’re not going to tell me?”

“I’d… rather not. There wasn’t… a specific person that was doing it if you were wondering.”

He hadn’t been. 

Luthor moved on from the subject. 

“You’ve mentioned before we had a falling out.”

“I did.”

Luthor raised an eyebrow at him— waiting to see if he would take the hint. 

“Oh, um.” He said. “It was kinda dumb young things. I wasn’t really telling you everything and you didn’t like that.”

Which was exactly how he felt now. He was simply good at hiding it. Likely better than he used to be. The more he spoke to Kent the more he was certain they had been real friends— or some sort of amalgamation of that. Luthor could never truly be friends with anyone. It simply wasn’t who he was. 

“History repeats itself.” He stated, then he asked. “Do you believe some things are innate to a person’s being?” 

“Like personality traits?”

“You knew me before I lost my memory. Am I the same as then— are there some parts of us that will always remain no matter what? Nature vs nurture, if you will.”

“Poetic for a businessman.” Kent said, then tied it in by saying. “You’ve always had that quality.”

There were many things Luthor considered to be a natural state of his being. 

Poetic wasn’t one of them. 

If he had a week to make a list of all his qualities it wouldn’t even cross his mind. Powerful, devious, ambitious, dangerous— perhaps even romantic on his best day. It was now that Luthor realized why his name on Kent’s mouth sounded the way it did— he said it with _hope_. He saw something in him that Luthor didn’t see in himself, and it wasn’t the hero worshiping parasocial kind of seeing something in someone. Luthor did see how he was poetic after he pointed it out. Kent did know him very well. 

“Every time I talk to you,” Luthor began, and folded his hands on the table, “you say something that stuns me. People simply don’t do that to me, even when they’re trying— not even Superman— but you’ve managed it many times now, accidentally.”

Kent took a while to respond.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good— obviously.”

It was at this point in time where his personal chef brought in their dinner. 

“I only contacted you because I wondered why a high schooler had been my best man.” Luthor said. “Funny, how one thing leads to another.”

Kent snorted into his food.

“Oh uh— sorry.”

Luthor found himself smiling despite the bad manners. 

“Why’d that make you laugh?”

“Just the one thing leading to another— I had been thinking something similar.” He explained. “I honestly didn’t really think I’d ever see you again, then suddenly I’m being invited to dinner.”

“I like to be direct about letting people know what I want. There isn’t anything to be gained in putting it off.”

“There isn’t anything to be gained in putting off writing either. I learned that the hard way.”

Speaking of his writing. 

“The article you wrote about me was…” Luthor trailed off. 

“Boring?” He offered.

“No, no. It was quite factual.”

Kent made a face. Clearly he disagreed with him. 

“Lois said it was missing personality, but I’d like to stick as closely to objectively as I can get. The other draft I wrote was kinda… bad, too selfish or something.”

“You wrote a completely different article at first?” 

“I think most writers go through at least one angle before they get it right.”

“I’d like to read the original.”

“That’d be pretty embarrassing, honestly. For me I mean.”

“Alright if you insist.” He said, letting out an audible breath as if he was given into him.

He’d just hack his computer later. There was no need to press him on such a small matter. 

Luthor probably should have thought of that before, but in his defense Kent was a regular guy and not some businessman who he was looking to blackmail or undercut. 

After they finished eating, they exchanged a few short words before going their separate ways.

“Thanks for dinner, it was nice.” Kent stated.

“The best you’ve ever had?”

Kent furrowed his brows. 

“Back in Smallville you lived with me for a little while. We made dinner one together— or well you tried to make it with me. You weren’t really bad at it but uh— I just think.” He cut himself off. “That was my favorite dinner.”

It was very small town of Kent to prefer something most certainly less well made because of the memory of it than his personal hand picked chef. 

“Why was I living with you?” Luthor asked. 

“Oh, you were avoiding an assassin or something like that.” 

The amount of ease he mentioned that with, said a lot about might have been happening back then. One of his ex wives did try to kill him. Who knew how many undocumented murder attempts took place. Kent probably knew. 

“I see.” Luthor went with saying instead of pressing him further on the topic.

“Until next time?” Kent cautiously asked. 

Luthor blinked. 

“Of course.” 

* * *

_The Richest Man in Metropolis_

_By Clark Kent_

Lex Luthor is not a man who does private interviews, often holding press conferences instead, but _The Planet_ was given the unique opportunity to be the first yesterday. 

It soon became clear why. 

When one is assigned to interview an individual with such a status and reputation as Mr. Luthor, they must come prepared. Unfortunately there is nothing that can prepare someone for a one on one meeting with him. No matter how many times it’s happened in the past.

The instance where the interviewer becomes the one asked questions isn’t something that happens, but that is what ended up occurring. 

His office is made of a wine red rug and dark oak furniture, with windows encompassing the entirety of the wall behind him. One can easily imagine him watching flying men glide past it, despite that Luthor easily captured the attention of the entire room. The first thing one’s eyes are drawn to when they enter is him. 

Luthor said: “You’ll get to ask your questions. There are just a few things I’d like to ask myself. I didn’t ask for you in particular by accident.”

Amongst all of Lex Luthor’s achievements it’s often forgotten that he has forgotten so much. His first open press conference was to address the fact that he had lost a significant portion of his memory. 

The main question Luthor asked was: “Did I know you Kent? Personally, more than just you being a delivery boy.” Followed by: “You were my best man at my first wedding.”

And one has to remember that the head of LexCorp is a man himself despite how impossibly large he appears in name and legacy. One has to remember standing by his side at a wedding so much smaller than what is normal for an individual at his status, and one must remember how that woman they saw walking to him from down the aisle would attempt to kill him a few days later. Then one can imagine why he keeps to himself, keeps himself apart from one on one interviews and any sort of love life. 

When asked “What is your opinion on the Man of Steel?” Luthor responded “How can one be heroic if they cannot be hurt at all?” And while many might see that as a diversion, know that it is not. Before the man of steel Luthor made a hundred and one inquiries and questions about responsibility and trust without the knowledge the man he was speaking to would one day be a reporter, in a time before superheroes in a time where Lex Lurhor’s name was only known because of his father's. Quickly one learns Luthor doesn’t quite answer questions with a statement, but that does not mean he hasn’t answered them. 

The answer he gave is to say Superman is not heroic, because Luthor defines that trait as someone who is risking something, and Metropolis's hero is not doing that when he stops a fire or a bank robbery because he cannot be hurt. But one has to 

* * *

Then the draft simply stopped.

Kent must have realized mid-writing he didn’t want to publish the words in front of him, but he didn’t delete it either. Certainly it didn’t read like _The Planet’s_ interviews usually did— it managed to be _more_ opinionated than Lane’s articles, although it would be quite hard to do that while including the personal questions Luthor had asked him. 

He had not seen Kent taking notes during the first half where he asked questions, but the reporter had managed with perfect clarity to recall what he had said. Kent also managed to hear what he said and understand it _exactly_.

His talents were waisted writing factual pieces, Luthor thought. It was almost a gossip column piece if it were not for the fact that it was so much more serious than that. Some sort of hybrid between serious journalism and a biopsy of his life and Kent’s diary entry. Obviously it was a first draft but, Luthor felt rather compelled by it. And he usually hated non-objectivity when it came to pieces written about himself. They were either too ass kissing or too rude. 

Was it that Kent had to reign himself in, or was it that something in Luthor burned the objectivity out of his system? 

Either way, it was interesting.

* * *

It was midday when Luthor got that _feeling_ whenever he was being watched. 

And sure enough when he turned his chair around Superman was floating in the sky behind him. He looked quite angry too. Quite the opposite demeanor he had for interviews and whenever cameras were on. But perhaps that’s why Metropolis made him their favorite son, they didn’t see his true self, not like Luthor saw him. 

A press of a button brought the wall length windows down— then he stood from his seat.

“Superman.” Luthor stated. “Come to accuse me of things I haven’t done again?”

“You’ve been quiet recently, I’ll give you that.” The alien said, floating forward till he was a few feet apart, but not entering his office. Luthor did his best not to look down over the edge less than six inches from his feet. “But I know it was _you_ who’s been looking in restricted areas for Kryptonite.”

Perhaps it was destiny that a flying man would be his number one enemy when he had a secret fear of heights he could never quite get over, no matter how often he dared himself to look down over that glass ledge. 

“Accusations Superman, are never a good thing. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? And I don’t exactly believe Kryptonite itself is an illegal mineral to own.”

“But digging in restricted areas is.”

“Again, accusations with no proof.”

 _Funny_ , Luthor thought, how an alien often acted on the laws of this country more so than the vigilantes of Metropolis’s sister city. But that was all specifically to gain the trust of the American people, Luthor knew. He’d betray them all one day. 

Superman looked at him menacingly in the air. Perhaps Luthor would be afraid of him if he knew the alien wouldn’t kill him, no matter how inhumanly strong he was, he doesn't kill. 

“Go on, run along now to do whatever it is you do when you're not interfering in my business, help an old lady cross the street or go spy on Miss Lane.”

“I’ll be watching you Luthor.” 

He didn’t doubt that.

Of course it wouldn’t be Luthor that planted the poison in this system. The alien could watch him all he liked.

Superman sped off into the sky, and Luthor looked down to the ground before backing up and hitting the button that closed the windows. 

Facing fear, _that_ is what made men brave, not the complete lack of it. Certainly _he_ would not understand that fact, but Luthor would show him what fear is, he would make him feel pain— he was the only person who knew how to bring the alien down to the rest of humanity. 

Not that Kal-El could even be considered a man to begin with. 

* * *

It was after a few meetings with Lex that Clark decided, maybe he should tell someone he's been meeting with his worst enemy, amnesiac ex best friend— in case he ever went missing one day and to keep some kind of transparency between other supers. 

His first, and _only_ choice was Batman— most of the others didn’t even know he had a secret identity to begin with. 

“This better be an emergency.” Batman coldly stated the moment he called.

“Luthor has been meeting with my civilian persona.” Clark responded straight and to the point. 

“And do you think he knows.” He immediately asked, although it tonally didn’t sound like a question.

Clark had no idea how much Batman knew about him— about Lex— the fact that he knew from a paper trail ment the dark knight likely knew the same basics if his detective skills were put to use but he supposed a brief rundown was needed. 

“No. We have a… history. One that makes it not entirely suspicious to be meeting with me. But just in case I go missing one day, I thought someone needed to know.”

“Noted.”

Clark wondered for Batman what personality was the real one, if either. The difference between the two was jarring, and unlike himself he’s never really seen Bruce in some sort of halfway measure between the two— somewhere in between beloved idiot and dark knight. 

If he had to take a guess however, he’d say the Batman was more of his true self. 

In those short minutes where they had spoken as Clark and Bruce— when he had gotten a date with Lois _right in front of him_ — as soon as she turned away Bruce had changed tone and expression to more match that of the Batman while Clark had been halfway between his two personas. 

“I had seen him speaking to you at that party. I had thought he had been talking to Lane.”

Clark has seen Bruce there too, heard him not so subtly joking around with what was supposed to be men and women in a moderately serious business gathering. He didn’t talk to him, of course. Although he had seen Lois eyeing him a few times throughout the party, she never approached him. The tension between those two only reminded Clark of how weird things between the two of them might be if she ever found out he was the man of steel. 

Bruce has told him once it was ironic she had fallen in love with the _other guy_. Implying Batman was the real identity and he thought Superman wasn’t the real him— that Lois had fallen for the act and not the man, both times. 

“He was more interested in me.” Clark told him.

After having gotten closer to Lex, without a doubt he could say he had talked to him instead of Lois more to gauge his reactions to specific things than to throw her off track. 

People being interested in the self that was closer to the real him wasn’t something that really happened. Besides his parents, the first person that came to mind was Cat, and she was a bit too _carnally_ interested in him to really be friends on any level. 

“I figured.” Batman said. “If the two of us ever have the misfortune of meeting again I’ll be sure to subtly ask him about the lesser known reporter of the _Planet’s_ duo. In typical playboy fashion.”

Although he really wasn’t a fan of that personality trait he’d absolutely love to see Lex’s face when he asked the question. 

“As long as it doesn’t make him suspicious.”

“It won’t. Is that all?”

Although their conversations were almost always over business and painfully brief, Clark had the feeling Batman wasn’t the jealous type— or that he was being short and cold specifically because they had been pinning after the same woman. It was just how he was. 

“That’s all.”

He heard the line click dead. 

“Goodbye.” Clark said to the empty air.

 _Why were all his friendships so weird_ , He wondered. 

A friend who tried to kill him regularly and wasn’t really his friend at all— a woman who he only saw at work and was actually madly in love with him, but didn’t know it— a guy who had more of a duel personality than himself and despite sharing all their secrets was cold and distrusting at the best of times. 

That was the price of a double life he supposed. Although he couldn’t be entirely sure— he didn’t know how the lives of the other superheroes were, maybe this was just a Clark Kent problem. 

At least Lex hadn’t bugged his room. _Yet._

* * *

For a short while, Lex didn’t call him. 

His life went on as if he had never contacted him at all, and Clark hoped whatever it was that Lex wanted he got it, and was moving on. 

He had never been able to move on from him in Smallville. 

Perhaps if he did, Clark could call him a changed man in the privacy of his own mind— have some sort of peace in that they ended on a neural note in his civilian identity. 

But of course, Lex ended up calling again. And at work as well. 

“Kent, your last article on Fawcett City was quite different from your regular works.” Lex said without greeting. 

Perhaps getting some of his feelings out about responsibility and openness in an article pertaining to Fawcett and its hero Captain Marvel wasn’t the best idea. It was however, one of his better pieces specifically because of its heart, even if it didn’t make the front page. 

Clark just hadn’t expected Lex to read _everything_ he wrote. 

“Oh um— thank you.”

Marvel was a lot like him, even though he never talked to him as Superman. From what he understood the Captain was a bit more _magical_ in nature and he was _a lot_ more open with the press. He didn’t wear a mask, was seen all throughout the day and sometimes even night. His article had been about the city _not_ relying on Marvel for damage control of accidents.

“Have similar feelings about our boy in blue?”

“Well… maybe.”

“Of course all the big Superman stories are by Miss Lane, but it seems you do have more to say about him than what you were letting on. Hard to believe one of the _Planet’s_ own agrees with me on some matters with Superman.”

He did agree with him, but only on the surface level. And that’s why Lex was so dangerous, he had to remind himself. Lex was right _sometimes_ , but although coming to the correct conclusion he took the wrong way to get there, and often he spiraled out of control and had an unrelenting obsessive streak. Most of the time, all of those things were hidden to the public. 

“You picked up on that quickly.” He stated, there wouldn’t be any good in denying it. 

“I’m a smart man, and I know you Kent.”

Good to know Lex stroking his own ego wasn’t exclusive to Superman. 

“Did you just compliment yourself?”

“Goofing off at work again Smallville?” Lois playfully asked, interrupting the conversation. 

He put his hand on the receiver to respond to her. 

“Just for a few minutes.”

“Same friend you were hanging out with a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah.” 

Lois rolled her eyes and went back to her computer. 

He brought the phone back up and spoke to Lex. 

“Sorry— my coworker wanted to talk.”

“Am I right to assume that was Miss Lane?” He said.

“She can be a bit nosey sometimes.”

“How about we do dinner again tonight, my place?”

“Sure, I don’t really have any big assignments right now.”

“We can talk more then.”

The line clicked dead. 

Clark held the phone out in front of him and stared at it. Lex probably wanted to know something again. It almost hurt him to know he was just being used somewhat. 

It also hurt him to know he might be getting more kryptonite soon. 

He looked up and noticed Lois was standing in front of his desk with her arms crossed. She didn’t look happy.

“Uh, Lois…?”

“Tell me Smallville, were you ever going to tell me that friend from Smallville you’ve been hanging out with was _Lex Luthor_ of all people?”

She must have been listening in on the line. 

“We just… talk sometimes.” He admitted.

“Talk Kent! He’s tried to kill Superman how many times— hired someone to kidnap me three times by now and builds robots that destroy the city!”

Clark really didn’t know how to defuse this. 

“I can’t exactly tell him off.”

“Why not? I do it all the time. It’s actually quite refreshing to be able to tell him off— even if it bites me in the end.” Lois said. “Maybe for once you can make headlines being the damsel in distress.”

“I don’t think that would sell as well as you being kidnapped.”

“I’m telling you Kent, he’s going to pull something over you. Don’t come crying to me when that happens.”

Clark was afraid of that too. 

But if he provoked Lex then he might figure out he’s Superman. He’d try and hurt him only to find out he can’t be hurt, he’d try to kill him only to find he can’t be killed. 

So far, nothing Lex had done or asked him to do has been bad or evil in any way. Besides the whole invading his privacy and digging out police records thing. Clark just had to go with it. 

Hopefully Lex would get bored. If not then maybe they could have an actual friendship. Maybe Clark was a bit of a fool for believing that despite everything that had happened between them. 

Even if Lex wanted to be friends for the sake of being friends, Clark would always feel weird because Superman and he were mortal enemies.

* * *

Here would be Luthor’s leap of faith. 

He trusted Kent, although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but the man himself. 

Most certainly it would be a dirty move, but Luthor made many of those just to make it as a businessman. 

Kent walked into his office and it looked like he was holding back a smile. 

“Are we always going to meet in your office— way back in Smallville I remember you used to like coming down to my parents farm a lot.”

“Perhaps then I’ll have to fly down there and check it out myself, but for now sit. I have a favor to ask.

“A… favor?” He questioned and took a seat. 

Then he seemed to notice the new addition to his desk, and looked worried— like he did in those first meetings they had together. 

“Feel free to decline it if you’d like.” He reassured. 

When Luthor took the Kryptonite from its lead box, Kent’s face instantly contorted— then he sharply stood up from his chair and promptly fell over trying to step back.

With tense shock, Luthor sat there in dumbfounded silence for a moment— not quite thinking anything at all— Kent’s never moved that fast before, never looked like he was in pain before— Lex had stood up and walked around his desk to see what was wrong before he realized _why_. 

“You’re Superman.” He stated, looking down at Kent— _Kal-El_ on the floor. 

He didn’t respond.

Completely, Superman was at his _mercy_ — there was no one that knew he was here, there was no way for him to escape. He wished he found out in a different way— any other way that would let him have more time. This was all too fast. For all his endless calculation and planning he never accounted for this being a possibility. 

Finally, Superman had the presence of mind to look up at him from the ground, and when he looked him in the eyes Luthor knew he had a choice to make that may change the fate of this world. 

Mostly though, Lex felt like an idiot. Not a man who had the most powerful person on Earth helpless on the floor.

He put the shard of Kryptonite back into its lead container and shut it, before leaning on his desk— half sitting on it— and looking everywhere but the man on the ground. The only sound in the room was Superman’s ragged breathing, slowly evening out before the room fell to complete silence. 

“I didn’t know I was invulnerable until you hit me with your car.”

At that, Lex looked to the alien. He had taken his glasses off and placed them on the desk in front of him. Still, he didn’t entirely look like Superman even though Luthor _knew_ he had the same exact face— he was so used to seeing the alien only in that blue suit and red cape with his hair slicked back save for one curl, imagining him looking like anything else became a near impossibility. 

“Was I always destined to try and kill you then?”

“I thought you told me you don’t believe in destiny.” 

Perhaps there was another thing that made Lex Luthor himself. 

He always rejected destiny


End file.
